James E Wilson, PI
by i'mnotcrazy82
Summary: Something's up with PPTH's head diagnostician and the Dean of Medicine, and Wilson's out to find out what! Post Help Me. Implied Huddy! Complete
1. Chapter 1

_**Dr. James E. Wilson, P.I.**_

_** A/N -**_

_**Just a humorous (I hope) little one-shot I came up with while watching The Good Guys. Not a crossover; it's all House, but I was inspired by the cop show :-)**_

_** I*heart* Wilson!**_

_** Anyway, I hope you like it!  
**_

_**As usual, I don't own anything House related, except some DVD's and a t-shirt, David Shore and Company own everything else... ;-)**_

Dr. James Wilson prided himself on being the most professional doctor he could be, but he slipped up sometimes. And usually those times were the times he was caught.

He'd had a rough morning. He had gotten into an argument with Sam over something small and stupid, for which he planned on apologizing for later, then, when he got to his office, he discovered that _someone_ had once again took down his prized movie posters and replaced them with posters from the student film-turned-porno that House had discovered he had a role in. He sat down at his desk, only and he turned on his computer, only to discover a blown up picture of himself wearing antlers and a tunic staring back at him. He could kill House for discovering this little bit of information about him.

He tried to move the mouse, so he could put the original office safe PPTH back ground back, except the mouse wouldn't move. On further examination, every item on his desk had been glued down. All of them. Even the pens he had left laying out had been glued to his calender, which had been glued to his desk.

He wasn't enthused.

Not so surprisingly, House had failed to show up in his office all morning, causing Wilson to go and try to track him down through the hospital. He'd searched all the usual places: coma guy's room, vegetative state guy's room, the morgue, the roof, the fourth floor men's bather room, stall 3, the clinic's exam room 2. He wasn't in any of his usual places.

Unfortunately, he didn't have all day to track House down, and after about an hour of searching the hospital, he had to go back up to his office and see if he couldn't loosen some of the items from the grip of the adhesive. After that, it was time to see patients, always a happy task. At least none of them threw up in his office after being told their diagnosis. That happened more often than he would like.

By mid-morning, he was drained. He looked at his clock, and the numbers only read 10:30. He had another hour and a half to lunch, but he had a thirty minute lull in between patients. He normally spent lulls conversing with his best friend, who was still yet to be seen. He decided instead to take a page out of House's book, and he leaned back in his chair, propping his feet on the polished surface of his desk. He closed his eyes and deepened his breathing, preparing to take a nap.

That plan, like so many before, was never seen to fruition.

He had just closed his eyes, trying to force his tense muscles to relax when his door burst open. He groaned inwardly, but he opened his eyes anyway, only to see a flustered looking Cuddy staring at him from his door frame.

She put her hands on her hips, transforming from friend-who-looked-like-she-wanted-advice to Dean of Medicine in 2.6 seconds. "Are you..._sleeping_? She asked, her voice rising a half of an incredulous octave on the last word? "Taking lessons on how to slack off at work from House now?" Her tone was dry, but her lips had quirked up into a slight smirk.

Wilson groaned and rubbed at his eyes. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. He sat up, pulling his feet off his desk. He massaged his forehead, "I've had a rough morning." He looked up at her. "What do you want? And if it's about House," he quantified quickly, "I have no idea where his is, or what he's been doing. Other than super gluing all my things to my desk. Including my mouse," he muttered.

She was taken aback by his information. "Super glued," she mouthed, her finely arched eyebrows shooting up. A grin broke out on her face. "So, he _has_ been a busy boy," she muttered, turning to leave the office.

"Cuddy?" he asked, loudly, to get her attention. "What did you want?"

She paused, biting her lip. Finally she turned around. "Today is House's birthday," she finally said, nervously rubbing her hands.

Wilson sat back, frowning. "And?" he asked, confused. "He doesn't celebrate his birthday," he told her. "Well, he might go out to a bar tonight and drink the day away, but that's nothing unusual." He stared at her for a moment. "Why do you suddenly care now? What's going on?"

"Nothing," she answered way too quickly. "Just...nothing. I was just wondering if you knew. To keep him out of trouble." She turned and quickly left the office, leaving Wilson to ponder her unusual reaction to his questions.

Finally, he sighed aloud. "Right," he drawled out under his breath, shaking his head. He knew Lisa Cuddy pretty well, well enough that she was hiding something from him. He frowned, then looked at the clock. Only five minutes until his next patient. He'd have to wait until after lunch to do some more sleuthing. And this time, he wouldn't waste his time looking for House.

The rest of the morning moved slowly; Wilson kept checking his watch every fifteen minutes, wishing that twelve thirty would come quickly. When it finally arrived, he quickly left his office, leaving word with his assistant that he was going out for lunch, and that he wouldn't be back until one thirty. He headed to the elevator, the words _everybody lies_ ringing in his ears.

He headed to the balcony, he and House's usual meeting spot before heading down the cafeteria, and he gripped the rail with his hands spread far apart, slightly leaning over it. He watched as Cuddy left the hospital quickly, twisting her head as if to make sure no one was behind her. _Curious and curiouser_, Wilson thought to himself, smirking slightly at his boss's suspicious behavior. _I wonder who she's off to meet? Who she wouldn't want anyone know she was meeting?_ He pondered the thought.

It was common knowledge that she and Lucas had broken up about a month before. In fact, he'd won the pool Chase had going, saying that it'd last for a year before she would come to her senses. Not that he didn't want her to be happy; he just didn't think that Lucas Douglas was a good fit for her. She needed someone who could stimulate her intellectually, and he didn't think that Lucas fit the bill. He was good fun, but when he got serious, she'd cut him loose.

Wilson thought about that, and he lifted a fuzzy eyebrow and frowned in thought. She hadn't seemed all that upset after the break up. Not that Lisa Cuddy was the type to be distraught over the end of a relationship, but she had been much calmer about it than she should have been.

He was just about to push away from the rail to commence his plan, when he saw something out of the corner of his eye that caused him to pause. He took a couple of steps back from the edge of the balcony; far enough that no one could see him watching from them from above. He watched intently as House's limping form hobbled through the wide foyer, heading out the double doors, nearly following the same trail that Cuddy had followed across the tile floor. Unlike Cuddy, his eyes were straight ahead, a grim scowl twisted on his features, causing even the bravest of souls to scamper out of his way.

Wilson, however, was even more intrigued, and his eyes never left House's limping form until long after he had exited those large glass double doors.

Making sure that House didn't come storming back in, Wilson didn't leave the balcony for a good five minutes after he saw his friend leave the building. Then, he headed to the stairwell, and headed down to the first floor. He walked through the busy clinic, hoping not to draw too much attention to himself as he calmly headed to her dark office. Her latest assistant sat at her desk, and her dark eyes watched as Wilson approached. "Doctor Cuddy's left for lunch," she informed him primly, sitting up straight. "Is there something I can help you with?" she asked, tilting her head to one side.

"No, Amy," Wilson gave her his best smile, the one that caused his cheek to dimple deeply. He held up a folder. "My latest draft of the oncology budget. I was just going to leave it on her desk, if that's alright." He gave her a reassuring look. "You saw me bring it in, so she knows that I brought it on time."

Amy laughed. "Go on in, Dr. Wilson. So far, you're the only department head to turn that in. Dr. Cuddy said you'd have it either today or tomorrow." She turned her eyes back to her computer, allowing him to have access to Cuddy's office.

He walked to Cuddy's desk, and he quickly turned around to see if Amy was watching him. He had to fight to keep from feeling smug as he watched her type away with her back to him. He turned back to the desk, and he couldn't help but feeling a little full of himself. He fought the feeling, tell himself he wasn't done with this task just yet. Once he was safely back in his office, he could celebrate his first solo breaking and entering...okay, it wasn't _exactly_ breaking and entering, but it was snooping on a higher level.

He stepped behind her desk, still watching through the open blinds, and he put the file in her inbox. He then briefly glanced at her large desk calender, searching for clues. He frowned, squinting at the little scribbles she had dotted all over the paper. Hair, spa, and massage appointments didn't interest him, and neither did the all the board meetings, although, he groaned to himself, he forgot about the transplant board meeting Monday morning at 7am.

His dark brown eyes skimmed over the sheet, and he smiled as he saw that she had her evening sitter scheduled for tonight. That little bit of information could be useful, especially since she had been asking about House's birthday today.

His eyes widened as he thought about. Why would Cuddy be hiring a sitter for the night of House's birthday. _No_, he thought, _those two things couldn't be connected, could they? _He sat back in Cuddy's chair, and he began to think about how his two friends had been acting recently. He had been too wrapped up in his own relationship with Sam to notice, but they _had _been acting strange, tiptoeing around him...

He shook his head, he was imagining things, wasn't he? There was no way that they..._ No,_ he told himself. _No way. Especially not after everything that had happened this past year. No way in hell..._

He was jolted from his thoughts as he heard the doorknob jangle. He looked up, his face frozen in a look of shock. _Crap,_ he thought. _I've been caught._ Cuddy strode in, and she paused momentarily as she noticed him in her chair. He started to stammer out an excuse for being in her office, but she just held up a hand and rolled her eyes. "You really are turning into House," she commented dryly. She spotted the budget folder in her inbox. "At least, you used an excuse, unlike him," she muttered. She gave him a wry look. "Now, please, get out of my chair."

Wilson scrambled up out of it, nearly tripping over himself. He held his hands out in front of him in a gesture of apology. "I'm sorry, so sorry," he stuttered, nearly running over Amy as he headed out the door. Cuddy sat down in her seat, watching him beat a hasty exit in wry disbelief.

He rapidly traversed the busy clinic, his heart thrumming in his chest. He didn't break out into a dead run, but he trotted the last few yards to the elevator. He felt his face heat in embarrassment at the thought of being caught, sitting in Cuddy's chair, obviously having not supposed to be there. _I guess I'm really NOT as good as House_, he thought, running a hand through his hair nervously. A couple of the other people on the elevator stared at him as he exhaled loudly.

He'd never been so relieved to be out of the elevator as he was when those doors opened on his floor. He quickly made his way down the hallway, worrying his bottom lip nervously as passed his assistant. "Dr. Wilson," she began, standing up, trying to get his attention, but he waved her off.

"No time, Erin," he said dismissively as he unlocked his office door. "Mr. Burnett will be here in," he checked his watch, "ten minutes. I have to get his files ready."

"But," she began, but he had already opened his door, and found Greg House sitting in his chair, his green Nike sneakers crossed on desk.

Wilson pursed his lips tightly together, shaking his finger at the smug looking doctor. "You...you...you..." he blustered, trying to come up with some witty thing to say, but failing in frustration.

"I what?" House grinned smugly at him. "Thought you'd try to walk in my well worn sneakers?" he arched a graying eyebrow at me. He hopped up from the seat, heading towards the door. He raised his eyebrows, giving the younger man a smirk. "You just don't have the skills, yet." He walked out the door, laughing, leaving Wilson fuming.

The rest of the day passed, and Wilson managed to calm down. He stopped fuming, and he started plotting. It was time to figure out what was up with his two friends. He figuratively put on his houndstooth thinking cap. He was a smart guy. After all, he'd graduated from med school and was the head of his own oncology department, he wasn't dumb by any stretch of the imagination, but, next to one Greg House, he felt like a total moron. House was..._cool_, and he felt like a nerdy sidekick to the Fonz.

At six p.m., he sighed, pushing back from his desk, and he headed out of his office, locking the door behind him. He walked to the elevator, and when he started to press the down button, the rubber end of a cane slapped his finger away. He raised an eyebrow, but he moved his finger out of the way. "Going home to your love muffin," House grunted.

Wilson sighed. "We had a fight this morning, and she's out of town for a few days."

"Ah," came the monosyllabic response. "So, you're going to go home and feel guilty until you just can't stand it anymore, and you'll rush to her in an overblown gesture of aplogy."

Wilson nodded as the elevator doors opened. "Sounds like a plan," he commented, stepping inside. He faced forward as the elevator descended. "How's living by yourself been going?" he asked. "I hardly ever hear from you anymore."

House shrugged, leaning heavily on his cane. "I don't have to put up with you snoring, anymore." He smirked a little. "And I can walk around naked anytime I want."

"Not...an image I wanted to imagine," he muttered. "Thank you, House," he groaned, sarcastically.

"Anytime, Jimmy," House grinned.

"Doing anything tonight?" Wilson asked. "I thought we could go to Brewski's and watch the Phillies game." He paused. "I'll buy."

"No can do, Jimmy," House replied. He gave Wilson a knowing smirk. "I've got a date tonight."

"Wait, what?" Wilson sputtered. "A date? With whom?" In the back of his mind, Wilson had an idea who it might be, but he didn't want to give anything away.

"No one you know," House scoffed as the elevator doors opened.

They walked out into the balmy June air. "One of your working girls?" Wilson asked.

"Now, Jimmy, that would be giving you the answer." House climbed inside his old blue beater. "I think I'll just let stew for a few days thinking about it. He slammed the door, and drove off, leaving Wilson standing alone in the parking lot.

Wilson went home, but not for long. He changed from his office attire into khakis and a green polo. He went to a small diner for dinner, then, he started his stakeout.

It was around nine o'clock when he parked down the block from Cuddy's house. He had thought about going by House's apartment, but decided that would have been too risky. Cuddy had moved downtown, but her new place had more sheltered spots for him to park his car. All the parking near House's apartment was street parking, and House knew his car all to well. He would have spotted it a mile away. At least here, it was a little easier to hide in the shadows.

Nobody told Wilson what a pain in the ass stakeouts were. His experience had been watching '70's and '80's cop shows, and those had always seemed so fun, so exhilarating. Not one had mentioned how _boring_ a stake out was. He had a foam cup of coffee resting on the dash, but after a few hours, he began to squirm in his seat. A few hours later, he resting his head on his steering wheel, checking his watch every five minutes. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe they had gone back to House's place after all. Maybe his plan to catch them coming back from their date had been thwarted by House. It wouldn't be the first time that one of Wilson's ideas had crashed and burned due to his being outsmarted by House.

He wound up staying up all night, watching Cuddy's house, waiting for any sign of them. At seven a.m., he could barely keep his eyes open. He was leaning on his elbow, nodding off. It had been a long, boring night of playing private detective. He was just about to give up, when a tapping on his driver's side window jolted him out of his daze. He rolled down the window, and Cuddy was staring at him in her jogging outfit. "Wilson? What the hell are you doing out here?" He opened his mouth to answer, but she asked him another question before he could respond. "Have you been out here all night?"

He opened and closed his mouth several times, but finally he hung his head. "Yes," he mumbled, not feeling particularly suave or smart.

"May I ask why?" Cuddy put her hands on her hips and she arched her eyebrow in question.

He rubbed his face, stifling a yawn. "I've been watching to many cop shows," he muttered, sheepishly.

"What did you think you were going to see?"

He thought about it hard, and he figured he might as well come clean. "I thought I was going to catch you and House going out," he sighed, feeling utterly ridiculous.

She blinked at him. "James, if I didn't know you any better, I'd say you were on drugs." She shook her head, cupping his chin in her hand. "Go home. Go to bed. We'll both forget that this ever happened," she giggled. "Me and House. Seriously?" He felt the fool, and he was sure that his face was beet red with embarrassment. "I'll see you Monday." She set off on her morning jog, leaving him feeling abashed.

He started his car, and he drove back to his apartment, feeling like an idiot. He stepped inside, and he changed into his pajamas. He was too upset at himself to sleep, so he sat on his couch brooding. He heard a loud, piercing beeping noise, and he went to retrieve his cell phone. There was a picture message from House, and he opened it. He stared at it for a second, and he had a funny feeling that the picture of him sitting in his car, rubbing his nose, was going to be posted all around the hospital by Monday morning.

It was the text message that made him smile, though.

_Nice try, Watson,_ it read.

He sent House a quick reply of _Hope you had a Happy Birthday, for a change. _He tossed his phone on the coffee table, smiling to himself.

The game was truly afoot.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N - So I decided to add a little more. Let me know if I should keep going, or if I should have kept it a one-shot. Anyway, thanks for indulging me, and my love of mystery novels and cop shows. **_

_**Hope you like it! :-)  
**_

_(One Week Later_)

"I can't believe you sat out in your care all night!" Sam smirked at him, curling up on the couch next to him, nestling her head on his chest. He wrapped an arm around her, and he hit play on the remote. They settled back on the couch, and he rested his chin lightly on her head.

He inhaled deeply, the soft apple fragrance of her shampoo filling his nostrils made his head spin. "Tell me about it," he murmured against the silky strands. "I've gotta get them back."

She smiled, loving the rumble of his voice as she lay draped across him. "What are your plans this time, since your little stakeout failed," she smiled quietly, her eyes never leaving the movie.

He groaned, laying his head back and rolling his eyes. "I'm stuck doing double Clinic duty over that. I thought for sure that she wouldn't punish me for it, since House made sure that I was humiliated enough," he trailed off, frowning.

"So, do you really think they're dating?" Sam asked, shifting to a more comfortable position.

"Something's going on," he told her, trying to relax. "Whether they're dating, or just sleeping together, that's up for debate." He shrugged. "All I know, is that they're working together, which means against me." His fingers ran up and down her spine, trailing to the hem of her form fitting t-shirt. He toyed with the hem, slipping his fingers underneath it, rubbing the warm skin on her back.

"Mmmm," she moaned softly. "I like that." She twisted around in his arms, running her hands along his shoulders and chest. She stretched her neck up, and she kissed him softly.

He kissed her back, planting soft kisses around her mouth. "I thought we were watching a movie," he murmured against her hot lips.

She smiled back. "You were more interested in House and Cuddy's love life." She ran her fingers through his hair, her manicured nails lightly scratching the scalp. ""I think you should be more interested in our love life."

He kissed her deeper, pulling her closer to him. He pulled away, his heart thrumming quickly in his chest. "I'm _very _interested in our love life," he informed her, pulling off her t-shirt. "I'm so interested, I think we should take this else where," he trailed off, his fingers dancing along her stomach.

She gave him a very teasing grin. "Then, let's go, hot shot." They stood up, and she took his hand, pulling him down the hall, and into their bedroom

"You got some last night." Wilson shouldn't have been startled, but even after over a decade of working with him, he still jumped at House's abrupt entrances. He glowered at his friend, who limped over to the soft faux-suede couch he kept in his office for patient's families. House settled his lanky frame easily onto it, and smirked. "Sam keeping Little Jimmy happy?"

Wilson buried his burning face into his hands. Not that he didn't mind locker room talk; when he was wasn't seriously involved with some one, recounting the events with his best friend was fun. Now, it was a gross invasion of his privacy. He sighed, then looked up. "Little Jimmy's not complaining, he mumbled, embarrassed. He started to sign the stack of papers on his desk. "How's your hooker doing?" he asked as casually as he could.

"Ah, ah, ah, Jimmy," House chided. "You're not getting information that easily." He folded his arms behind his head, and he leaned back, appraising his friend. "Besides, how do I know that you're not conducting another stakeout in front of _my_ apartment?" He smirked at his friend's embarassment.

"I'm never living that down," Wilson muttered, "am I?" He felt his face heat up again; he'd never been this embarrassed in his entire life.

"Nope." House got up, using his cane for leverage.

"Where are you going?" Wilson asked, surprised. He glanced quickly at the clock; it was almost lunch time.

"Hot date, Jimmy," House smirked. "I just can't leave her waiting." He held up his cane. "She just loves the hard wood." He winked at his friend, then he left the office, leaving Wilson to ponder his words.

After finishing up his paperwork, Wilson headed to lunch. He'd briefly thought about following his friend, but he decided not to. After the disastrous attempt at a stakeout, he thought he needed to stay under the radar for a while. So he watched from afar, looking for any clues or abnormal behavior.

Cuddy had become much more suspicious of him, especially after she caught him staking out her place. He really wasn't going to live that down, and she goaded him about it for a few days. Other than that, it was business as usual. She ruled over her kingdom with an iron fist, letting everyone know that speculating about her love life in earshot was off limits. As was snooping around in her office, although, that was one rule one doctor in particular ignored.

As far as House, he enjoyed ribbing his friend, but there was something different about him. Something that had changed. The speculation between his fellows (whom Wilson had bribed heavily for information about their boss), was that he'd found a girlfriend, and that the hints that he'd alluded to the past month were true. Now, to just who the person was that had caught his fancy, well, that was up for debate. The only thing that they fellows did agree on was that it wasn't a hooker or a stripper. Somehow, they all thought that House wouldn't be nearly as secretive about someone like that.

But, Wilson was the only one who thought the person who'd caught House's fancy was Cuddy.

At the suggestion, Foreman had laughed in Wilson's face, and he informed Wilson that he was an idiot. That after all that had happened in the past year, Cuddy wouldn't have ever forgiven him, nor House her. Thirteen had just given him a blank, cat-like stare, then shrugged. "Who ever she is," the enigmatic doctor had told him, "she's making him happy, and that makes us happy." Chase had agreed with her. Taub didn't seem to care one way or another, as long as House stayed out of his own personal life.

They had given him four dead ends

He walked into the cafeteria, happy to see the blow picture of him in the car had been taken down. House had taken way too much glee in tormenting him over this. He could feel the stares from the other hospital employees on him as he ordered his chicken salad sandwich. He twisted his neck around, hoping to see his best friend there, even if it was just to get Wilson to pay for his lunch, then eat his anyway, but, no such luck.

He frowned, but it was just another clue in the case. House almost never left the hospital for lunch, and neither did Cuddy. Yet, they were spend an inordinate outside of the hospital, but almost no time together while in it.

He took his sandwich and chips over to an empty booth, and he felt odd. It had actually been a few days since House had eaten lunch with him, and he found that he actually missed it. He idly took a bite out of the sandwich, slowly chewing while his brain processed what he had discovered.

House and Cuddy were together. He knew that. He just didn't have any proof. And since his investigative skills so far sucked, it looked like he'd never get that proof. He thought about it, and the conclusion he came up with is that he could either wait for one of them to slip up about their relationship. Or, he could step up his own game.

The thought of going on another stakeout chilled him, and he felt himself involuntarily shiver. Starsky and Hutch's stakeouts had never gone that badly, but he thought he could do something different. Something that might give him some more information than he already had.

He felt pretty smug the rest of the day. His idea formulated itself nicely, and, when he wasn't visiting patients, he was figuring out logistics. He sincerely hoped that House was going to leave early today. Usually, the lanky doctor left between three and five, if he didn't have a case. If he had a patient, it was a crap shoot on when he'd been in the office or not. Sometimes, during a particularly puzzling case, he'd stay in the hospital for days, trying to figure it out.

Wilson got lucky, and House left around four that day. The team hung around the office for a bit, finishing up House's paperwork on their last patient. Wilson managed to find an excuse that kept him in the hospital for a few more hours, and he watched from his balcony, periodically stepping out side as if to stretch and get some fresh air, when he was really watching as the team members left, one at a time. When the office was deathly quiet, and the all the lights had been shut off, he snuck in.

He didn't know if the door to the balcony was locked; he prayed that it wasn't. Sometimes, though, prayers weren't enough, and a spare key had to suffice. He tried the handle, and it seemed like god wasn't listening that day, and the door was locked. He drew the key from his pocket and he let himself in.

It was dark in the office, but the light from the security lights from the outside of the building illuminated everything well enough for him to poke around. The blinds for the glass walls facing the hallway and the Conference Room were closed tightly, so he wasn't worried about anyone seeing him.

He was, however, worried that someone might come in, so he worked quickly.

He rummaged through the desk drawers, blanching a little when he got to the third drawer on the left. Apparently, being happily involved with someone hadn't dampened his desire for porn. Diving into the rest of the drawers, he didn't find much. A bottle of Ibprofin, some old, empty orange vicodin bottles, a full fifth of Bacardi 151 (he grimaced at that), but not much else. He found an old book on Civil War battlefield medicine, and he was tempted to take that for his own personal reading.

He didn't think much of the book, until he opened it to flip through it. Tucked among the yellowing and musty pages, was a picture of much younger House with his arm draped around a much younger Lisa Cuddy. He felt his eyes grow wide; he hadn't known that they had known each other that long. It looked like it was taken at college; Lisa (she was far to young to be Cuddy) was wearing a dark blue, form fitting t-shirt with MICHIGAN spelled out in maize block letters. He hastily tucked the picture away, the image of them so young, and maybe not so innocent burned into his mind.

He left the office, pondering what he had found. It wasn't proof that they weren't together at this moment in time, but it was something. He locked the door behind him, and he awkwardly climbed over the low ledge that divided their balconies.

He locked his own office, and he left the hospital for the day, never realizing that the webcam on House's computer was on.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N - **_

_**Thanks to all who are indulging me on this. I hadn't planned on it being continued, but I don't think it'll go on for much longer. It definitely won't have more than 10 chapters. It could have less though. It's a fluid process.  
**_

_**I usually don't scrounge for reviews, but since this one is so different (for me), I have to ask that if you like it, let me know.**_

_**Thanks a lot!**_

_**(The Next Day)**_

Wilson came into the hospital the next day. He usually had Saturday's off, but he had scheduled an biopsy for that morning. It was the earliest he could get his patient in; she had come into the Clinic while he was on duty, complaining about an odd lump in her breast. He had performed the necessary scans and tests, but they were all inconclusive. The woman had a family history of breast cancer, so they had opted for a biopsy, just to be on the safe side.

It wasn't like he had anything better to do. Sam had left for the weekend to visit her mom in New York. It was a "girls only" weekend, since her dad was out of the country on business, and her mother had decided it would be a great way for them to reconnect, since it had been a few months since Sam had last visited her.

He didn't know what House had planned on doing over the weekend. He had tried to call him to see if he had wanted to go down to Baltimore to catch an Orioles game, but he hadn't gotten a hold of him. He had tried to call his friend four times, and it just went straight to voice mail.

He hadn't called Cuddy. They were friends, but they weren't spend-the-weekend-together friends. He used to come by to check on Rachel now and then, but he had stopped after she had hooked up with Lucas. In fact, he hadn't stopped by in a long time. He thought about doing that after he left the hospital, but he decided he should call first. If she was really spending quality time with House, he didn't want to walk in on anything he might regret seeing later.

Or did he? It would be an excellent way to prove his theory. If he survived, that is. Somehow, he figured that if he did walk in on them doing something...intimate...his body would never be found, and his friends and family would be told that he had run off with a stripper from Atlantic City.

The biopsy had been scheduled for mid-morning, and he was done with it by noon. They'd receive the test results in a few days. He went down to the cafeteria for lunch, and he picked at his turkey and bacon sandwich. He was still at a loss over what to do for the rest of the weekend. The afternoon, he had figured out, he would spend finishing up paper work. By doing all this today, he could take next Friday off, and maybe he would take Sam up to the Catskills for a romantic weekend together. He smiled at the thought.

He had been worried that reconnecting with Sam would be a bad idea, but so far, he'd been wrong. Maybe they had just been too young and selfish that first time around. Now that he'd been given a second chance, he was going to take it for all of it's worth.

He took another bite of his sandwich, and his thoughts turned to the picture that he had found in House's desk. He had thought about it quite a bit since he discovered it, and, he took a page out House's playbook. He'd looked up the class enrollments at the University of Michigan in the mid-eighties, and low and behold, he'd found both Lisa Cuddy's and Gregory House's names. Lisa, he discovered, had graduated from both the undergrad program as well as the med-school, both early and with honors. That much, he had known. House, on the other hand, had only been enrolled for one semester.

He thought back on how much he knew about House. He'd met the man nearly eighteen years ago, at a medical convention. He had been still working on his residencies, but he had graduated from med-school. He had know hat House had been tossed out of Hopkins for cheating, and that he'd eventually graduated from NYU, but he didn't know that he had spent a semester at Michigan. He frowned, wondering why House wanted to keep that information secret.

Then it hit him. He hadn't been shielding that information because he was ashamed, he had been protecting Cuddy! Wilson chewed his lip at the thought, his sandwich forgotten. He had known that House had known Cuddy for a long time; he'd been the one to convince her to give him his first department head position. The same position he held to this day, but he didn't know how long his cranky friend had known their boss. He guessed, when he found that picture, he had found that out.

There was a nagging feeling prickling at the back of his neck that had bothered him since he had broken into House's office yesterday. Thinking about the fact that Cuddy and House had dated before, seemingly in college, had intensified that feeling. He dumped the remnants of his lunch in the waste can by the door, then he headed back up to his office to complete his paperwork. He tried to think what he had forgotten, or what he had missed. It buzzed in his mind as he made his way up to his office, causing him to clench his teeth to keep his hands from shaking as he unlocked his door.

When he opened the door, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

House was sitting in his chair, going through his desk drawers. "What are you doing here?" Wilson asked, shocked. House didn't have a patient, that he knew of.

The rumpled doctor looked up and scowled. "You're supposed to be at lunch."

Wilson lifted an eyebrow. "And now I'm back." He sat down on his couch, sinking into the warm leather cushion. "My checkbook is at home, and my wallet's in my pocket," he informed his friend, looking smug.

"Oh," House grinned. "I already found what I was looking for," Wilson felt the smug grin disappear from his face.

"And, just what were you looking for?" he asked, suddenly nervous.

"Nothing," House answered quickly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He stood up from the desk, putting something into his pocket. He made sure he did it in front of Wilson.

Wilson gritted his teeth. "What did you take?" he demanded, standing up, too. "And what the hell were you doing in my office?" he asked, his anger flaring at House's obvious actions.

The smirk widened on House's face. It grew dangerous. "And I can ask you that exact same question."

Wilson's jaw dropped. "H..h...how," he stammered, turning red. He could feel the heat radiation from his face.

"Next time," House waggled a finger at his stunned friend, who was beginning to resemble a beet, "stay out of my office." His eyes sparkled with mischief and malice, "I have ways of knowing when someone's pilfering through my desk."

"I wasn't..I didn't go..." Wilson tried to blurt out, but he knew he had been caught.

House's eyes were still dangerous. "You need to become a better liar." He started to turn to leave. "And I want it back."

This had Wilson stunned. "Want what back? I didn't take anything?" He held out his hands in a gesture of surrender and surprise.

"Ah-ha! See! You just admitted it!" House was damn near gleeful. "I know you were there, and now, I want it back. Nothing of yours is safe until it's back in my desk drawer." He whirled around, and he limped out of the office with a grace that Wilson didn't know he had.

Wilson slumped behind his desk, his mind churning as he tried to figure out how House knew it was him, although, he hadn't taken anything from House's desk. He had left everything the way it was, and there really wasn't much he wanted to touch in that desk, especially after he had found House's porn stash.

That meant that the only thing that House had cared about was...

Someone had taken that Civil War book, and the picture in it. And it wasn't himself. His eyes grew wide. He had to find that book.

He began to form a list of possible suspects, but there wasn't any reason to start interrogating anyone, yet. Monday would be soon enough, and it would give him all the next day to formulate a plan.

He still wondered at how House knew he was there. As he got into his car to go home, it hit him.

House had a webcam.

And it had seen everything.

Maybe even who had taken the book...


	4. Chapter 4

**_A/N -_**

**_Sorry it's been a while in posting. I had a big holiday weekend, and wound up riding horses for four days instead of posting. So, here's the next part, and I will be updating a few other of my works in progress in the next couple of days._**

**_There's a distinct tone shift in this chapter, and we break away from our resolute hero for a moment. Don't worry, he'll be back next chapter, and he'll be hard on the case ;-)_**

**_Hope you like it!_**

**_(oh yeah, and I wrote this before we found out that LeBron James joined the Heat...just an FYI, and the metaphor I used him in just doesn't work for that team ;-) )  
_**

(_Interlude_)

Lisa Cuddy unlocked her front door, smiling to herself. She had been doing that a lot lately, smiling. She didn't think she had felt this good in a long time. It was like a huge weight that had been pressing on her shoulders had finally been removed, and she could finally relax.

She still felt like she was in a dream, that soon she was going to wake up, and find that nothing had happened. That nothing had changed. So every day she had woken up feeling far less miserable than she was before was a blessing.

She had thought she was happy with Lucas, but she now knew she had confused contentedness and complacency with happiness. The feelings she'd had with Lucas didn't come anywhere near the rush of emotions she felt around House. Lucas was a pleasant stroll in the park, safe and secure. House was a wild, out of control motorcycle sliding to a stop in the dirt in a cloud of dust and smoke. It could end well, or, it could end in disaster. Either way, it wasn't going to be boring.

She felt the smile on her face wane as she thought about Lucas.

Lucas didn't take her breaking it off with him very well. As she thought back to that night, she visibly cringed. She could still remember his angry shouts at her, and the cruel names he had called her. "_House's whore_," rang in her ears, the angry heat still there, in the memory. She had tried to placate him, tried to let him down gently, but he wasn't going to hear any of it. As calm and as sweet as he could be, as great as he was with Rachel, in that moment, he had revealed his true nature, and it was frightening.

So she nearly jumped out of her skin when she flipped on the light and saw him, occupying space in the living room.

"How ya doin', Lise," he gave her a cocky smirk. He was sitting in her large chair, his sneakered feet propped up on the heavily polished surface of her coffee table. His arms was folded behind his head, and he looked smug. Like he knew something she didn't. That look looked good on House, the smug arrogance. On Lucas, it just looked creepy. Scary, really.

"Hi, Lucas," she bit out, trying to keep her voice neutral and civil. She put her purse on the couch before sitting down, her legs demurely crossed at the ankles. She assumed her business position. "What are you doing here?" she inquired, keeping her voice polite.

He grinned at her, but it wasn't a pleasant look. It was wolfish, and she had the disturbing feeling he was taking her clothes off with his eyes. "I'm just visiting an old friend," he said, too pleasantly. It was forced, and his smirk gave way to a sneer. "That's what you said when you gave me my ring back, right. That we could still be friends." The venom in his voice stung.

"I...yes," she admitted, a little surprised at the anger there. "I still want us to be friends..."

"Funny," he cut her off, angrily. "That's the last thing I wanted us to be."

She froze. It was deja vu. Several weeks ago, House had used those exact same words to her. Somehow, that angered her. When House had said it, it was without the anger, without the hate, it was just remorseful and sad. Lucas had no right...

"Look, Lucas, I told you..."

"You told me you couldn't deal with a relationship at the moment," he exploded, standing up. She flinched, but she remained rooted in her spot. "You told me you needed time to get thing straightened. So, just when I thought about coming over and see how things are, I see you making out with House!" Anger and betrayal radiated off of him. "How long were you sleeping with him?" he demanded, his hands balling into fists. Was it before or after I asked you to marry me?" His breathing became ragged with his outburst.

"I didn't sleep with him.."

"You LIE!" he bellowed, his eyes flickering with emotion. "I could handle you not wanting to get married for a myriad of other reasons," he told her, trying to calm down. She had shrunk back into the sofa, trying to make herself as small as possible, and he saw that. "I just want to know, why him, and why not me?" he pleaded, begging for an explanation.

She sighed, the tension tightening in her shoulders. She realized she had been holding her breath, waiting...waiting for what? For him to hit her? To yell at her some more. That made her angry, especially when she heard Rachel's cries rise up from the bedroom. She stood up, squaring her shoulders. Her gray eyes flickered dangerously. She didn't handle being pushed around and bullied well. "Because, with House," she explained, her voice low, dangerously calm, "I know what I'm getting." She twirled on her heel, walking purposefully down the hallway.

Until she felt a hand gripping her shoulder so tightly it hurt. She squealed in pain and shock, and she felt herself being backed up against the wall. Her mouth was assaulted by a forceful kiss, and as soon as she recovered her bearings, she pushed at his shoulders, trying shove him back. "I love you, Lisa," he mumbled against her lips, and she felt a wave of nausea rise. "He doesn't deserve you," he ran his fingers through her hair, rubbing the soft strands between his fingers.

She swallowed the bile that had risen in her throat. "Go. Away," she bit out, outraged and frightened. "You lost." He looked at her sadly, then he nodded.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever," he snarled, bitterly, reluctantly moving down the hall, away from her. She heard the back door slam shut, and she made a mental note to change all the locks ASAP. Her heart was hammering in her chest, her pulse roaring through her ears. She swallowed, recovering from the altercation as quickly as she could, then she heard Rachel's cries echoing in time with her throbbing headache.

She walked down the hall, and she opened the bedroom door. "Shhh," she cooed, picking the little girl up. Rachel's hands were balled up into little fists, and she was cranky from being woken up from her nap. Her round face was screwed up in frustration, and it was red from her cries. "Shhhh," Cuddy whispered, soothingly, as she danced around the room, rocking her daughter into calmness.

It was only later when she realized she'd been crying.

House knew there was something wrong the minute he stepped into her house.

There was a tangible sense of _wrongness_ that filled the air. He dropped his bag on the floor by the front door, and he warily went first to the kitchen. Not that Cuddy was much of a cook, he had found out. He knew his way a skillet much better than she did, so cooking dinner on the irregular nights they spent in each other's company had become his task.

At least it was a chore he could enjoy.

He limped in the empty room, and he frowned as he looked around. There was no sign of her, and he felt his heart rate increase. They hadn't been together that long; a mere handful of weeks, but already, he was possessive and worried about her.

It was a strange feeling; one he hadn't experienced in about ten years.

He limped out of the kitchen, moving to the hall. He peered into her bedroom, smiling to himself when he saw his pajama bottoms hanging over the foot of the bed. She had been insistent on tugging those off the previous night, and he was pretty sure they would have won gold in the Sex Olympics with their antics.

He felt his groin tighten at the thought, but at the pace they were going, he was going to be drained by the end of the month. He grinned slightly at the thought – Death by Sex Driven by Administrative Need. He wanted that written on his death certificate. At least then, Cuddy would be mortified until the day she died.

Nothing had changed; EVERTHING had changed. It was so confusing. And they hadn't killed each other, yet. Maybe the sex WAS that good.

He snorted to himself; his mental musings had caught him off guard and off task. He pulled his head out of the bedroom, then went back down the hall.

He found her in Rachel's room, sitting stiffbacked against the crib. Rachel was sleeping, her soft snores filling the darkened room. As soon as he ascertained that Rachel was fine, his eyes flickered back to Cuddy.

Her dark hair was pulled back into a messy clip, long loose tangles framing her drawn face. Her eyes were red and sunken, and dark circles that looked like bruises were ringed around them. Her face seemed thinner. She wore an old, shapeless gray sweatshirt, and her knees were drawn to her chest, her arms hugging them. Her feet were bare.

She looked pathetic.

With great difficulty, he sat down beside her. For a long time, he didn't talk. He just rested his chin on the handle of his cane, which was stretched out in front of him like his legs. He hadn't taken his leather coat off yet, and he was growing warm. Still, he sat there, waiting for her.

He didn't have to wait long.

With a dull voice, she told him, "Lucas came by today." He looked over at her, his blue eyes wide, but the news wasn't that unexpected. You didn't just move on after proposing to a girl. Especially a girl as unique as Cuddy. "He knows."

"Knows what? That LeBron's going to the Knicks? Remind me to buy season tickets." She didn't laugh at his attempted deflection. He sighed. "He's a private eye, and he's not stupid. You broke up with him _abruptly_. Of course he knew that something was up."

That did get a glare. "If I had known that you were just going to be glib and..."

"I'm always glib," he snorted. He reached over, and he placed his large hand over one of her small ones. "And trust me, I'm very _glad_ you're with me know, but you had to know there were going to be consequences." He quirked his lips up into a small smirk. "After all, you're not me. You don't get away scot free like I do."

She snorted. "That's only because I let you." She fell silent again, intertwining her fingers through his, and she rubbed her thumb across his scarred, knobby knuckles. The sensation of his skin underneath the pad of her thumb was a calming one, and his sturdy presence allowed her to focus. "This could be an issue," she murmured.

"Like, you on the cover of Sports Illustrated?" his eyebrows shot up. "I'd love to see you in a leather bikini."

She rolled her eyes before looking at him. "Not that kind of issue, you moron. An _issew," _she mused in a precise, slightly accented tone. "Lucas knows things," she sighed.

"Like? What a hot babe you are? Trust me, EVERYONE knows that." It was his turn to roll his eyes.

She shook her head. "No," she paused. "He could out us to the Board. He knows about the Dibala case. What he doesn't know he could easily find out." She sighed, her shoulders sagging in defeat. "He could be a problem for us."

House was very quiet for a moment. "The book," he murmured. Cuddy tilted her head in question, waiting for him to continue. "That old Civil War text that I keep in bottom left desk drawer, next to that bottle of rum I know you know is there." She made a little huffing sound, but let him continue. "My webcam cut out the other night, after we caught Wilson pilfering through my desk. I accused Wilson of taking the the book, but I don't think he did, now." He pursed his lips in thought. "Hearing this, I figure Lucas came in and took it."

"But why?" she frowned. "It's just an old book."

He rolled his head on his shoulder to look at her. "It has proof."

"Of what?" She was growing confused.

"Of us."

Her mouth formed a small "o" shape. "What?" she hissed.

"A picture. Of us, in college. And one steamy love note you wrote on an old test copy of mine. I believe it read how much you would have loved to get to know a certain part of my...anatomy?" He teasingly lifted an eyebrow.

She laughed, a soft chuckle. "I believe I was implying that I wanted to pick your brain. About the Endocrinology mid-term."

He gave her a little a little half smile. "Believe what you want. You wanted to get into my pants and put your ankles around your," he hissed as she slapped him on his chest.

"Shhh," she whispered, warningly. "Rachel's right behind us." He put his arm around her and he drew her closer, so close she rested her head on his chest. She sighed, closing her eyes. "We should tell Wilson." she murmured, closing her eyes, inhaling the spicy scent of his Old Spice and leather.

"And ruin the fun?" his voice rose half an octave. He breathed in, the smell of her hair filling his nostrils. "Maybe Wilson can help," he mused aloud, his hand creeping under her sweater, his long fingers tracing small circles on the small of her back.

"Hmmm?" she responded, lost in the comfort of his presence.

"Wilson's been hell bent to find out about us, right? Well, maybe he can find out who took that book."

She nodded. "We need to come clean to HR." She snuggled closer to him.

His lips curved up into a smile. "Only after we have a little fun."


	5. Chapter 5

(_A few days later_)

It usually wasn't this busy at PPTH. Wilson found himself frowning at the thought, and he wondered if it was a full moon. Oh, they usually saw their fair share of accidents, but the Amtrak train derailment nearly a month after that crane collapsed on a building was nearly too much. He pulled the pale green ER scrubs, then hung his slacks and button down shirt neatly in his locker. Sighing, he left the locker room, heading towards the ER.

The ER was a pulsing mess of frantic energy. Doctors and nurses were shouting out orders about patients, and more people were coming in via ambulance from the crash sites. Being the smallest hospital in the area, PPTH was getting the fewest victims, but few was a relative turn. The ER was nearly bursting at the seems.

Carla Gomez, a tiny Hispanic woman with coal black hair and copper skin, was directing the chaos. She had been Cameron's replacement when House's former fellow left PPTH. Her hair was pulled back into a simple tail, and the end nearly brushed her waist. She stood with a clipboard in her hands, barking out orders like a drill sergeant, occasionally dropping into Spanish to swear under her breath. She turned around, grumbling, then saw Wilson as he made his way towards her. "_Est__á__s tarde_," her richly accented voice was like Kahlua poured over ice.

He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "_Lo siento_, Carla," he told her with a grin. "I'm sorry. I got here as soon as I got the message. You try getting across town in this traffic."

Carla nodded, then grinned. "You've been watching _telenovelas_ again, James." She waved her hand towards a small cluster of curtains. "The usual, lacerations, broken bones, bruises, and other minor trauma." She pointed to another group of curtains. "Head and neck injuries. "We're waiting for CT scans." She turned to him, her tail swinging as she moved. "We need you to help with new arrivals. Judge their injuries. We've got to get the most serious taken care of first, then down from there." She shook her head. "_Dios mio_,_" _she sighed. "_Est__á__ malo._"

"As bad as the crane?" he asked, watching as nurses and med students treated the minor injuries.

"_S__í_." He'd liked Carla from the first time they met. She teased him about learning to speak Spanish, and she used it as much as possible around him. She turned her liquid ink eyes on him.

He nodded slowly. "Cuddy know?" he asked, absently.

"_S__í__,"_ came the one word reply. "She's on her way. Unlike your no account friend. Limping bastard," she hissed. She turned to him. "Now, get your ass to work," she grunted, tapping her clipboard with her pin. He couldn't help but smile; she had openly flirted with him after the first week. "And call me," she called at his retreating back, "as soon as you break up with Barbie."

The next few hours were spent dealing with the trauma injuries from the train crash. In addition to the injuries, the derailment was national news, and reporters from local, national, and even international news outlets were trying to work their way into the ER to interview doctors and victims. It was a nightmare.

Wilson tried hard to block the distractions out. Hours passed quickly as he kept busy. He focused on the incoming ambulances, and the victims. Most were going to survive their injuries, and he tried to block the ones that probably wouldn't from his mind. There was a lull in the ambulance arrivals, and he was helping stitch up a patient with a leg laceration.

"James!" an accented voice barked.

He had finished the last stitch, and he turned to the nurse next to him. "Can you finish treating her?" The young nurse nodded, and he turned to Carla, who was standing at the curtain opening. "What do you need?"

"Your friend is here, hiding from the _jef__é_. If he questions my immigration status one more time, I'm shoving a stethoscope up his ass."

"House is here?" Wilson was truly puzzled. It was his day off, and unless he was scheduled to come in, he wouldn't rouse himself to help out. He was notorious for turning his phone off if there was even an inkling of an emergency.

"That's what I said, wasn't it? I know English isn't my first language, but it was a close second," Carla shrugged.

"No, I heard you, I just can't believe it," Wilson mumbled in response, shaking his head. "Where is he?"

"Last I saw, in the waiting room, hanging out by the vending machines. I think he thinks that if he's there, Cuddy'll think he's a patient." She gave Wilson a little wink.

"And what do you think?" Wilson walked down the hall with her.

She rolled her eyes. "I think if he was in my battalion in Iraq, I would have shot his ass years ago. He's the laziest son of a bitch I've ever met," she snorted, wrinkling up her nose. "And I told him that," she added, a hint of pride in her voice.

Wilson chuckled. "Thanks, Carla. I'll either get him out of your way, or put him to work."

"Thanks, _guapo_." She turned the heel of her white sneaker, then headed back to the ER, bellowing out orders.

He headed to the waiting room, and there House was, laying down across the row of cheap, multicolored plastic seats. His eyes were closed, and his cane was lying on the floor under the chairs. Wilson sighed. "What are you doing here? Other than being an ass," he added, quickly.

"I'm doing what the boss told me," he snorted, then he looked up. "You found my book yet?"

"You never do what you're told," Wilson muttered. "And no, I never even took that damn book. Don't you have the perp on video. You caught me on that stupid webcam."

"Perp? Someone's been watching Law and Order," House responded. "And the only think I saw on the webcam was you, holding the book. I want it back."

"Is this going to turn into anything like your crusade to get your carpet back?"

House stood up. "Get me the book back. Or Sam gets to know about your acting career. I'm sure she'd like to know that she looks like Mistress Bimbo in your little film." He gave Wilson a humorless grin. He limped out of the waiting room, leaving Wilson fuming in his wake.

Wilson quickly found his way back to the ER. "I gotta take a break, or I'm going to kill someone." He told Carla when he found her. She stared at him, her dark eyes wide. He was pretty sure she'd never seen him that angry. "I have enough bad behavior caused by House on my conscience, and I don't want to add murder to it."

Carla nodded quickly. "_No problema, _James. It's slowing down a little, now. You have a few minutes before all hell breaks loose, again," she gave him a wink.

He exhaled. "Thanks." He headed to the lounge to take a little break and calm down a little.

He wasn't surprised to find that there was someone else in the lounge. He looked up at the clock; they'd been working for nearly seven hours, but he was surprised that that other someone was Lucas.

The cocky man had his feet up on the low coffee table in the middle of the room, and he had his nose in a book. When Wilson walked in, he slammed it shut, and quickly put it out of sight. He didn't get up. He just gave Wilson an arrogant, bitter smile. "Hey Dr. Wilson," the younger man said enthusiastically. "How's Lisa? I mean, I haven't really seen her in a while."

Wilson returned his bitter grin. "Neither have I, to be honest. She's been keeping pretty busy." He paused. "Why are you here?"

"Oh, I'm just finishing up a job for Lisa. I started it before..." His lips crimped into a nervous frown. "Well, I started it a few months back. She thinks one of her employees was having an affair with one the Board members." He shrugged. "She wanted to find out what was up, before the Board found out. Apparently, supervisor/subordinate relationships are not allowed under the fraternization policy, and there had been whispers that this affair was becoming a favoritism issue." He shrugged. "Gotta go. Nice seein' you again." With that awkward rambling, he left.

Wilson sat down on the couch, trying to process what was happening. His head hurt, and he was exhausted from working in the ER. House was being an ass, but that was usual. What wasn't was the lack of Cuddy. As capable as Carla was, and she was more than capable, having issued medic orders during the war in Iraq, Cuddy liked to be in the action. He supposed it was due to her mostly sitting behind a desk all day, utilizing her business acumen, rather than helping patients. He idly scratched the fine stubble on his cheek, thinking that it also could be the reason she assigned herself Clinic duty.

Then his thoughts turned to Lucas. Something was fishy about his story. If he had been working on a last case for Cuddy, wouldn't he have seen the private eye drifting around the hospital? He frowned, his brows knitting together. Something wasn't adding up, especially considering his cryptic story. As Wilson thought about it more, his eyes grew wide, and his his pulse quickened while his stomach sank. In a split second, he was on his feet and out the door...


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N -**_  
_**Okay, so, this might be all. I hope you liked it. I think I put enough WTF moments in it ;)**_

_**Just in case this is it, thanks for reading. This was a fun little bit to write :D  
**_  
Wilson didn't hesitate. He quickly stood up, almost losing his balance in the process, and he hurried out the door. His rapid steps now had a purpose, and his hands gripped the evidence tightly. He made his way down the hall towards the Clinic. From there, he was only a few yards from his destination.

He burst into the office, and he found them, together. Cuddy was sitting at her desk, while House towered over her. Both looked up as he burst through the door, and the look they gave him was identical. It wasn't the surprise that he had expected, though. It was full of wide-eyed concern and distaste. He paused in his steps. "Wh..what's going on?"

House snarled first. "Is this your idea of a joke?" He gestured angrily at the desktop, while Cuddy just gave him a hurt look.

Wilson was puzzled, and for a moment, he forgot what his purpose had been. "What joke?" He tilted his head to one side, and he moved closer.

House snatched up a piece of paper, and he threw it at Wilson. "This, you sick bastard," he sneered.

Wilson looked at the paper, which had letters that had been cut out from newspapers glued on to it. "I know about you," he read aloud. "If you don't want to lose your jobs, you'll follow my demands." Wilson looked up at House and Cuddy. "I didn't do this," he informed them. "In fact, I know who did," he told them, putting the old Civil War textbook on the desk.

House and Cuddy's eyes grew wide. "You had it?" Cuddy choked out.

"Nope." Wilson put his hands in his pockets, and he recounted his short conversation with Lucas in the doctor's lounge. "He left this on the coffee table in there."

Cuddy blinked. "He's not doing any investigation for the hospital," she slowly admitted. "You think he's behind this all," she looked up at House, who was staring off in to the space behind Wilson.

"He's definitely got motive to," House muttered, scratching idly at his rough beard. He glanced over at her, "and I don't think Wilson's creative enough to make this up." He gave her a wry grin.

"Blackmail," Cuddy moaned, rubbing her forehead. "He's trying to blackmail us."

"Is there a fraternization policy for the hospital?" Wilson wondered aloud. Two heads snapped up at him. "I mean, if there is, then I should have been fired years ago, considering how many assistants..."

"Don't want to hear it, pantypeeler," House snorted, but Cuddy held up a hand.

"There's a warning against fraternization, but there's no actual policy against it." She leaned back in her chair, suddenly very tired. "It's frowned upon, though. And it is a requirement to go to HR immediately," she admitted, casting her eyes downward.

"So you are dating House?" Wilson asked.

"Are you really that dense?" House snapped at him.

Wilson ignored his friend. He turned his attention to Cuddy. "So why didn't you got to HR right off the bat?"

"Yeah," came a cocky voice. "That's an excellent question."

House and Cuddy's heads jerked up so fast Wilson thought they had given themselves whiplash. He himself spun around, and he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.  
"Lucas!" Cuddy cried, and Wilson felt his blood freeze in his veins. His heart started pounding, and he felt beads of sweat break out on his forehead.

"You slimy bastard," House growled, making a move to limp around the desk.

Lucas pulled the hammer on the gun back. "I wouldn't move, if I were you," he said, almost apologetically. Wilson felt a surge of fear that sent the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He lifted his hands in the hair, and his eyes went wide. "I'm sorry, Wilson. I really am. I didn't want to include you at all in this. Maybe I can make it up to you someday."

Wilson found his voice. "Buy me a beer, just like old friends?" he spat out, bitterly.

"Good times, right?" Lucas told him brightly. "My beef's with them, okay. Especially the pathetic loser I almost considered a friend once."

"You son of a bitch!" Anger flared in House's eyes. His face was twisted up into an ugly snarl, and he hefted his cane like a bat, ready to come after the man he once hired himself to get Wilson back.  
And of course, it was that moment that all hell broke loose.

The doors to the office burst open, and there stood tiny Carla Gomez, a gun in her hands, and a badge attached to hem of her pastel pink scrubs. Behind her stood four men, all wearing black jackets emblazoned with the letters FBI. "Freeze, asshole!" she barked, training her gun on Lucas.

Lucas spun around in shock. "You called the _feds!"_ he screamed.

Wilson balled up his fists, and he took advantage of Lucas' momentary distraction. He swung his arm around, and he felt his hand crack as it connected with Lucas' jaw. The other man turned and snarled, and Wilson heard Carla yell out in the background. "No, _guapo_, no. We got this!" Lucas raised the arm that held the gun, and Wilson gripped it, his right hand throbbing painfully. With all his strength, he forced the gun upward, and, suddenly, his ears rang as a shot went off. He felt no pain as he dropped to the floor, and the last thing he heard was the heavy thumping of boots running over Cuddy's carpet.

[H] [H] [H] [H] [H]

"You think he's gonna come to?" The words echoed dreamily in Wilson's ear. He thought he recognized House's voice, but wait, why was House here? Where was here?

"Will he be alright?" Cuddy's voice rose from the fog.

"_Si,_" came a Latina accented voice. "He'll be fine, _tonto guapo,"_ she said, fondly.

"Good," came a gruff grunt. "'Cause I ain't gonna give him mouth to mouth. He could hear the worried sneer in the cross voice.

Wilson felt himself waking up, and he opened his eyes. "I'm not dead?" he croaked out.

Carla snickered. "No, _guapo_. You fainted."

With a groan, he sat up, and he looked around. Cuddy looked mortified, but House and Carla had knowing smirks on their faces. He rubbed his face with his hands. "I'm never living this down, am I?" he asked, knowing what their answers would be.

"No," they said in unison.

"What happened?" he asked, getting to his feet. He turned to face Carla. "I swear I saw you rush in with a gun, a badge, and a posse."

"Yeah," House smirked. "She was only missing a pair of boots, spurs, and a big white cowboy hat."

Carla sneered at House. "You betcha, that was all I was missing, _idiota._" She turned to Wilson, who had moved to stand next to Cuddy. "_Lo siento_, for keeping this from you. My real name is Carmela Rodriguez, and I really am an FBI agent." She gestured them to take a seat. "This may be a long story. _No s__é__,_" she shrugged, sheepishly. She turned to one of her other agents. "Damien, _necesito aqua, por favor_," she told him. He nodded, then left the room, quickly.

"I was given this case a few months back," she began. We've been tracking the work of Lucas Douglas for a while, but as you know, he's a slippery son of a bitch. He knows how to skirt the rules, and how to bend them without breaking them." The other agent returned with a paper cup filled with water. "_Gracias_," she told him, taking a sip. "One of your fellow board members reported him to the local authorities, accusing him of blackmail and extortion, which is why we were trying to trace him. We've gotten complaints about him in six states," she explained.

"Oh, dear god," Cuddy breathed, burying her face in her hands. In an uncharacteristically tender manner, House rubbed back, looking awkward as he tried to comfort her.

"Don't feel bad, Lisa," Carmela smiled at her. "If it wasn't for his infatuation with you, we may have never caught him. After getting the proper court orders, we planted wires around the hospital, and even tapped his line. We were planning to move in a few days from now, but this incident just bumped our plans up a bit." She beamed at them. "Thanks to this, we can now add criminal confinement and assault with a deadly weapon to our list of charges." She looked at Cuddy's worried face. "No worries," she told her. "We're not holding you responsible at all. After all, as far as we can tell, you didn't know anything about his...," she paused, trying to find the right words, "...after hours activities? He kept the illegal stuff on the side, away from his business. As far as we know, he was a damn good private I, he just couldn't stop himself from taking it farther."

Cuddy sighed, then frowned again. "You're not a doctor? But your resume was impeccable."

Carmela beamed. "It is my resume, just not my real name. The military paid my way through John's Hopkins." She held out her hands. "Any other questions?"

Three heads shook no. "I'm sure you will later, once the shock wears off." She scribbled down a number on a legal pad. "Call me if you need to." She stood up, and she stretched. "We'll be calling you down in a few days for questioning, _est__á_ _bueno?_" She turned, and she left them alone, staring in silent shock as she left.

"So," House broke the silence, looking at Cuddy. "You think we should go to HR now?"

**{The End, for the most part. I'm debating writing a short Epilogue. What do you all think?}**


	7. Epilogue

_**A/N - **_

_**Here's a short Epilogue, just to finish this up!**_

_**Disclaimer – I own nothing but my OC, and I hope you weren't too annoyed with her :-)**_

_(Six Months Later)_

James Wilson felt the tension in his body subside as he walked out the heavy oak doors of the courthouse. His two friends, Greg House and Lisa Cuddy walked out behind him. He paused, waiting for them at the top of the steps leading down to the street. He stretched, rolling the remander of the stiffness out of his shoulders and back.

Today was a good day in a series of bad ones.

The trial was over, and despite Cuddy's desperate attempts at spin control, the news of Lucas' attempted blackmail and embezzlement of hospital staff and funds had gotten out. The media had been all over it for about a week, and now that the trial was over, the interest would be renewed.

Cuddy would have a meltdown.

Good thing House was planning on taking her on a "surprise" vacation to the Poconos. Too bad her mom had let it slip that _that _was the reason she was coming down and taking care of Rachel. What Cuddy didn't know is that House had a surprise wedding planned as well for that weekend.

Wilson couldn't wait to see _that_ look on Cuddy's face.

He didn't know he was grinning to himself until a blunt voice grunted from behind him. "What the hell are you smiling about?" He spun around to see that House and Cuddy had caught up.

He pulled his heavy coat close around him. There was a bite to the air that told him winter was well on its way. "It's over. Isn't that reason to smile?" He held his hands in an open gesture of pacification.

"Ain't that the truth," Cuddy sighed, happily. "This has been a PR nightmare."

"Yeah," House's breath misted in the cold air. "You're lucky you kept your job. Hiring that criminal and all," he taunted.

"Shut up, House," she growled, elbowing him in the ribs. He sneered playfully at her, thrusting his free hand into the pocket of his wool overcoat. She turned back to Wilson. "How are things with you?" she asked, gently.

His eyes grew wide, and he stared at House. "You _told_ her," he gasped, covering his eyes with his hand.

House shrugged. "Duh. She share's my bed, so I share my secrets." He gave his friend a little grin. "I even told her you wet the bed."

"You ass," Wilson grumbled, sighing.

"It's not _my _fault that your little blond heartbreaker left you for a _second_ time," House shot back. He eyed Wilson suspiciously. "In fact, you handled her break-up quite well."

The squealing of tires caught Wilson's attention, and he turned towards the street. At the bottom of the steps, a cherry red Dodge Ram had pulled up. A tiny Hispanic woman hopped out of the truck, and bounded up the stairs. "_Hola_ Dr. House, _Hola_ Dr. Cuddy," Carmela greeted them happily. She turned to Wilson, and grin. _"Hola, guapo," _she had to stand up on her tip toes and he had to lean down so she could plant a soft kiss on his lips. "Are you ready?" she asked, looping her arm through his offered one.

"Always," he grinned, relishing the stunned looks on his friends' faces.

"Okidokey," she grinned back. "_Vamos._"

She tugged on his arm, pulling him down the stone steps to her waiting truck. "_Hasta luego!"_ he called to his friends as he climbed into the 4x4 behemoth. She revved the engine, laughing as he rolled up the windows, then she sped off into the streets, leaving House and Cuddy gaping at the steps of the courthouse.

Wilson couldn't have been happier.

The End

_**A/N-**_

_**Thanks everyone, for reading and reviewing! I really appreciate this, and I hope everyone got a laugh out of it. I hope you all enjoyed reading as much as I liked writing this.**_

_**I've been very uninspired to write, edit, or post lately, but hopefully, finishing this will snap me out of it .**_

_**Again, thank you very much!**_

_**~Yours In Service**_

_**I'mnotcrazy aka Amanda**_


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